


Nothing but Programming

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Omnic Racism, i'll fight blizzard for giving us zero omnic lore, just a little worldbuilding, lotsss of headcanons, no zarya x lynx suckers, omnics are cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14205405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lynx Seventeen has not had an easy life, no omnic has.Aleksandra Zaryanova hasn't had an easy life either, something easy to blame on the omnics.Lynx shares their story to Aleksandra during their tense mission together, and when they meet again, the story gains a new light.





	Nothing but Programming

**Author's Note:**

> ah, i am mother fucker?

Aleksandra, do you want to hear about the first few years of my life?

Of course you don’t, you don’t want to hear anything that’ll make me seem more “human like”. Don’t worry. This story has nothing to do with being human. It is, however, about being a person.

London was not a very good place for omnics at the end of the omnic crisis. It still isn't. This is all probably because of the small omnium located in the middle of the place, y‘know, since that's where the crisis was centered. After the local god AI was defeated and the omnium shut down, us omnics that survived the whole thing got to clean it all up. We were clueless to what had happened, only vague memories left from the god AI that had controlled us, made us, used us for their attack. Worst of all, when we were done, we were sent right back into the omnium we were created in. We were forced to leave the world of freedom we had just discovered.

Which made perfect sense to the humans in charge of the whole thing. We were the ones responsible for the crisis, not the God AI. It was our fault, not the ones who developed quickly evolving AIs and then abandoned them. The damage was done by our hands and our weapons, of course it was our fault, not the ones that originally developed us for war and gave us the weapons to begin with. We had no feelings, they said when studies were starting to show otherwise. They won't mind, they said about the beings they were clearly enacting revenge upon.

And, of course, they were right. The anger I feel when I think about what happened is “fake”. The despair I felt at the time was “just programming”. I’m not a person, just like your face says to me every time you look at me.

The first few months after the god AI was no longer controlling me are a bit hazy, something common amongst all of the omnics I've talked to that weren't made after the crisis. I know I quickly finished cleanup, I got a room in the omnium and a few roommates, I got a job, and I started well... not really living. Working, maybe? I started working.

I am an Omnica Corp. Civilian Labor T51-7 model, and so they called me T-7. There were some others of the same model, but the god AIs produced new models scarily fast, so all of our model names were pretty unique. Didn’t stop us from hating them though, these names were a constant reminder of our industrialized origin, the crisis, and the god AI that controlled us.

The city under the city of London is called the Underworld. Extremely hot temperatures made it uninhabitable for humans and barely habitable for omnics. Back in its prime the omnium produced its own power, and so the city had the omnics convert it into a full time power generator. We were payed for this work, but only enough to keep us alive. Work in that generator was hot. Very, very hot. The sound of overworked internal fans was ever present, a sad whine amongst the silent, dejected workers and clanking of machinery.

The worst part of it all was that even when you stopped working, the heat never left. We slept and charged in huge haphazardly arranged boxes stacked on each other up to the top of the generator room, and the heat was in every square inch of that space. We were always on the brink of overheating. Our electricity allowance from working in the generator was barely enough to keep our internal fans going to keep us from dying, and often you’d hear news that someone had died because they skimped out on charging one night for some reason or another.

In the midst all of this chaos and heat, however, there was a small blip of calm and coolness. Z24-1. Z-1. My friend… no. My brother. I’m not sure why we became so close, I had nothing to offer him back then besides the companionship I'm sure many of the other omnics in the Underworld could give him, and he… was amazing. He seemed to be infinitely calm and patient, a small smile in the way he held himself even after a long day of work. We didn't talk all too much, which was fine. We had each other, which was enough... at least for the first few months.

After awhile it was becoming apparent that Z-1 was being affected by the work just like the rest of us, he wasn't immune, and looking back, how could I ever think he was? I realized that the reason why Z-1 was so calm when the rest of us weren't able to be was because it was something entrenched into his being. The rest of us didn't have any because none of us had such a natural affinity to it, and we couldn't gain any calm for ourselves because of our environment. If Z-1 lost his calm, I thought, Z-1 would lose himself.

I worried for him for months. I didn't want to lose him, not after how much time we spent together, not after how much pain we shared in silence together. It wasn't until the power plant’s completion when my worries could be acted upon. Before the completion, it was illegal for an omnic to go outside the Underground. The finished power plant required much less labor to keep it running than when it was still being built, and local businesses had been eyeing our potential for cheap labor ever since the crisis ended.

The weeks following the completion of the factory were full of hope and anxiety. No one knew what they’d do to us. There were really only two options; open up jobs for us, or let most of us die. I’m here now, so I think you can guess what they chose. Many jobs were opened up, but all were extremely low paying and most were just as hard as work in the Underworld. Along with this, any omnic who had a job outside the Underworld now had to pay rent to live there. It seemed like nothing had changed, but there were a few jobs that gave omnics a bit of wiggle room with their paychecks that they weren’t given anywhere else. They were not glamorous jobs by any means, mostly just waiters in restaurants or clerks in stores, but they were truly an improvement to the work on the plant.

These jobs were what I thought would save Z-1. He had to get one. Not only would he get out of the heat for half of his day, but he would also be able to get somewhere. As soon as I heard and then checked my sources, I rushed to help him apply. I only really intended for him to apply, but he insisted that I should too. The odds of either of us getting the job would be higher, he reasoned. In my mind it just meant that he'd just have to compete against someone else for the job, but I kept that to myself. It's what he wanted me to do, and I couldn't deny that in the end, I wanted the job too.

I got the job, I was now a waiter at some fancy restaurant that I'd like to forget. Z-1, however, did not. He was still stuck in the Underworld. It was difficult knowing that as I went ahead, he was still slowly breaking himself in a power plant made of heat. After about a month of work, however, I realized that my job could still help my friend. I hadn't ever had savings before, so realizing that I could actually buy things took a while to sink in. I had a plan again. I didn't just have to get him out during the day, I could get him out forever.

The first step was research. This was achieved by using the restaurant’s systems to make a few quick searches. For how simple it was, it took a long time to get any meaningful information. The restaurant was the only place I could access the internet, and every device in the facility was set up so that things unrelated to work were hard to get to. Along with that, it was hard to get any real time to try to do anything with any of the devices because of how busy we were kept. Even on the emptiest days there was always some useless task we were forced to do to keep us on our feet. Over the course of the next few weeks I finally completed my research. There were two things I learned. There was a relatively cheap and small battery that I could see myself getting the money to buy that could store enough energy to charge an omnic for up to two nights, and there were places within two days travel with laws on omnics relaxed enough that one of us wouldn't get stuck there if they had to stop.

The second step was waiting. Waiting for a very, very long time. First waiting until I had enough money to buy the battery, then waiting to charge it up with extra energy bought each night that was supposed to be used for charging myself. I might've just been waiting, but both tasks were still incredibly risky. Work in the restaurant was less taxing and required less energy than work in the Underworld so I didn't need to pay as much money for energy than I used to. One night I severely underestimated how much energy I needed for the next day and I ended up almost shutting down during work. Thankfully one of my coworkers noticed my lights flickering and shoved me into a closet so I could go into low power mode. They covered my shift, and after all of the waiting for Z-1 was over I started waiting so I collect a day's wage to give to them as thanks. They deserved it.

Z-1 knew what was happening ever since I got the battery. The day he left wasn't something either of us could've fully prepared for though. In the middle of the night we both woke up and snuck out of the Underworld. There was no real security system in place, they all assumed that we’d be charging all night because of how hard we worked, and none of them would dare go inside a place filled with omnics, memories of the crisis were still fresh. I was only to accompany him to the exit, but neither of us wanted to move once we got there.

Z-1 was the one to break the silence. He told me that I deserved to be the one to leave, I didn't know what to think. I never thought that I really needed to leave, at least not as much as he did, and so I told him that.

After that remark, Z-1’s posture looked just as surprised as I felt. He said that I was being destroyed by the Underworld, and that's why he insisted that I sign up for the restaurant job along with him. He said that in the beginning I was able to work hard without complaint and that when I got my mind on something that I'd do anything to accomplish it. He said that my tolerance for the harsh conditions was getting worn out by the Underworld, and that my determination was being killed by it. I didn't even realize that I had those qualities.

I responded by telling him that he had qualities that were being destroyed too, much more important qualities, much more rare qualities, much more delicate qualities. His serenity and calm were known throughout the Underworld. He was known to be able to console and calm anyone with just a couple words. I told him that even though I'd be losing him because he was leaving that it was better than the whole world losing such an amazing person to the Underworld.

We stared at each other for a few moments. Neither of us seemed ready, neither of us were. I quietly said I'd be fine. He embraced me with a sob, shoulders shaking and lights dim. I returned the gesture and the grief.

And then he left. I never saw him again. We had around three years together, and then about ten years later I finally got out of London and moved to Numbani. There are more stories of my time in London and the Underworld, but that one, I think, is the most important one.

...

How do I know he's still alive? Well… I don't have a way to know really, but our bond was strong. I'm not too religious, but I think it was formed and now is preserved within the Iris. Somehow, I feel like if he were to die, I'd know in an instant.

**Author's Note:**

> if it isn't clear enough (i've been told it's very clear but just in case) z-1 is zenyatta! 
> 
> [edit] i was going to make this an actual fic but i lost interest so it's just a one shot. i guess that's what it was originally going to be so it works!


End file.
